JINGLE ON MY SON!

27.10.18

In 1761 a new Militia Act came into force. Strangely it managed to
arouse strong negative feelings in both ordinary working people and the
ruling class: the former because a ballot system of recruitment -
essentially conscription - was resented; the latter as training the
masses to use weapons was felt to be dangerous for the future, priming
them for revolution.
On March 9th 1761 a large crowd gathered in Hexham Market Place to protest about the ballot system, some putting the
numbers as high as 5000, though a few hundred is more likely. For
several hours the leaders of the protest talked with the magistrates,
remonstrating about the imposition. Those magistrates feared violence,
and brought in a force of the North Yorks Militia as protection against a
mob attack. Their presence, however, probably further enflamed tempers.
Eventually the magistrates lost patience, and the Riot Act was read. As
the crowd turned uglier, the soldiers fixed bayonets. The mob, by now
its fierier members armed with tools and staves, charged. Two soldiers
were killed with guns grabbed from them or their comrades, then a volley
or far more probably a series of volleys was fired into the rioters.
When the smoke cleared at least 50 were dead, including the two
soldiers. Another 300 or more were injured, some of them dying later of
their wounds. Among the dead were two pregnant women.
A hunt went on over the next few weeks for anyone known to have
participated in the riot, taking in not just Hexham but the settlements
around it, the list of casualties showing people from Corbridge,
Slayley, Stamfordham and Ryall among many others had been involved.
Unsurprisingly the North Yorks Militia earned the sobriquet The Hexham
Butchers after the event.

TUESDAY MARCH 10TH 1761

‘The
Market Place was a tragic sight. Bodies of the dead and wounded lay
scattered. The ground was stained with blood and the cries of the
wounded were pitiful. The following day it rained, washing away the
traces.’

Wash away the day,wash the pain away,sweep the remains of yesterdayinto the racing river.Beat the Dead March,bang the old drum,heal Hexham’s bust bonesand cry me a river,cry the Water of Tyne.Wash away the dayand wash this pain away.

A PITMAN DEAD

With blood gushing out of his boot tops,a well-dressed manleaves townalong Priestpopple.Thirteen men lie inside the Abbey,not owned.Numbers are found dead upon the roads.Big with child, Sarah Carter shot,the musket ball found in the child’s belly.Thrice into a man’s bodylying at James Charlton’s shop doorit’s said they ran theIr bayonets;and a pitman dead,a weaver:all those broken days of history,all the slain hours in our diaries.Sound the Abbey’s bells!Let them toll the severed minutes.Let them celebratethe end of torture.Let them gushwith rejoicingfor more peaceful times.

THERE’S A RIOT

These streets,in this Heart of All England,are swept clean of blood.But the stains still soak our books.Death upon death,we turn the pages;in between the lines,we read about the screams,time’s bulletstearing flesh away.There is terror lurking in this Market Place,just scrape away the skinand, deep down,there’s a Riot:a commotion boilinga terrible turbulence,a throbbing pain.It is a Riot of gore,a torrential downpourof weeping:a seeping sorethat is Hexham’s History.